Lost Complex
by Anikka
Summary: A FFVII/Parasite Eve fusion universe fic set about a year after the game. Many, many chapters to come. Input and critisicm is more than welcome, because it tells me whether I should continue. Enjoy!
1. Introduction

Lost Complex - Version X : RECORDS

**LOST COMPLEX**   
Written by [Anikka][1]

  
  
  
**MANUAL**

Welcome to Lost Complex, a Final Fantasy VII / Parasite Eve fusion universe fic. The following is a small introduction to the story, so please take a few moments to glance over it. 

The inspiration for this story came from a single line in FFVII. Remember when they were all sitting around the Flame in Cosmo Canyon? Do you also remember what Cait Sith says when Cloud talks to him : "I wonder how many years it's been ... Gosh, it brings back memories." That line has always, ALWAYS irked me, so I plotted out a whole big fic around it. The line was never explained, which led to the planning behind Lost Complex. 

Of course I can never be satisfied with just a simple little past delving story, so I had to spice it up a little. I'm playing through PE again, and I thought to myself, "Self, I bet it would be cool to take this game and FFVII and mash 'em together." 

*mash* 

The story takes place about a year (give or take a couple of weeks) after Final Fantasy VII. The principals of Mitochondria Evolution and all that jazz have been inserted into the FF world, minus Aya and her rag tag crew. Sorry to all male readers but there will be no Aya shower scenes (but I'll make it up to you). It's not a crossover, per say, more of a melding of scientific possibilities. 

Lost Complex is going to take a look at some of the more neglected inhabitants of FFVII fandom (you'll know who I mean immediately as you read the first chapter), in hopes of exploring their characters a little more, and maybe earning them a few more fans. Yay. I also feel obligated to warn you of the following : 

_Nasty, nasty language_. Stuff you wouldn't want your aged grandmother to hear. 

_Violence and gross stuff_ (If you've played PE, you'll notice its a fairly gross game - what with all the cell mangling, and ooze leaking). 

_Sexual Situations_. I'm debating right now whether future chapters will contain full out NC-17 action, but readers will be properly warned before hand. I can always change the rating. While I'm on the subject, this story also contains m/m situations. Yaoi is my perverted friend. If you are offended by that, I hope you will still read anyways. But don't worry, for those who are non-yaoi there are straight pairings as well. They'll be given equal treatment. Everyone's happy. 

I think that's about it. Oh. While I'm at it, I may as well get the Disclaimers out of the way. Ahem. I do not own Final Fantasy VII or Parasite Eve, their characters, their plots, and all subsequent ideas, beliefs, or scientific principals. They belong to Squaresoft, whom I love and adore, and would never think of stealing from. One, two, better not sue. 

If anyone has any further questions or concerns, please feel free to email me. I've rambled long enough.   
  


   [1]: mailto:anikka_sedai@hotmail.com



	2. VERSION X : Records

Lost Complex - Version X : RECORDS

**LOST COMPLEX**   
Written by [Anikka][1]

  
  
  
**VERSION X : Records**

_

FIVE MONTHS AGO ...

_   
  


SUBJECT : William Blaire 

AGE : 22 

CLASSIFICATION : Foot Soldier, squad A; SOLDIER Candidate 

MAKO RATIO : 14.87% 

E.V.E. RATIO : 10.32% 

STAGE : 1 

STATUS : Dead 

OPEN SUBJECT HISTORY? (Y/N) 

"Fuck." 

The single curse drifted aimlessly in the cramped laboratory, eventually dying on the walls. Computer keys clacked furiously in the dark, the keyboard illuminated only by the dim bluish glow of the monitor. 

SUBJECT : Zack Avirin 

AGE : 19 

CLASSIFICATION : SOLDIER - First Class 

MAKO RATIO : 89.99% 

E.V.E. RATIO : 69.32% 

STAGE : 3 

STATUS : M.I.A. ; presumed dead 

OPEN SUBJECT HISTORY? (Y/N) 

"All fucking dead and missing." 

A hand ran furtively through limp, greasy hair, the product of several days of staring mindlessly at the computer screen, hoping for the break that wasn't coming. Scouting the list of names, he moved onto the next. 

SUBJECT : Cloud Strife 

AGE : 16 

CLASSIFICATION : Foot Soldier, squad A; Sephiroth Genome Experiment (failed Specimen) 

MAKO RATIO : 96.59% 

E.V.E. RATIO : 0% 

STAGE : N/A - failed requirements 

STATUS : M.I.A. ; presumed dead 

OPEN SUBJECT HISTORY? (Y/N) 

He couldn't help but laugh, despite his frustration. Someone really needed to update these files; it had been five and a half years since the Niebelhiem incident. It was funny that the one they had thought was a failure was the one to destroy Sephiroth in the end. It figured that the easiest person to find would be the most useless to him. Strife hadn't met the program needs, and was therefore a dead end. 

If only the beta specimen hadn't disappeared, he wouldn't be stuck in this Planet forsaken laboratory trying to round up the names of the other test subjects. More than half of them were dead, and the rest were difficult to track down. Meteor had thrown a huge dent in their project, and it was only now that things were beginning to take shape again. But the little progress they were making was hardly worth the countless hours in a subterranean bunker. What he wouldn't have given for a nice weekend at Costa De Sol. 

"Have to keep looking," he muttered placidly to himself. 

He closed that directory and accessed a much more recent one, only a year old, and smiled slightly when Hojo's specimen files appeared on the desktop. The man had been a God Damned genius, though most people thought he was a psychopath. 

"Might as well start at the top ..." 

SUBJECT : Reno Hideaki 

AGE : 24 

CLASSIFICATION : Turk 

MAKO RATIO : 68.77% 

E.V.E. RATIO : 0% 

STAGE : N/A - failed requirements 

STATUS : Alive; Currently assigned to Cetra Retrieval Team 

OPEN SUBJECT HISTORY? (Y/N) 

A frown creased his brow. It was going to be another long night.   
  
  


***********************************************  
**To Be Continued**  
***********************************************   
  


   [1]: mailto:anikka_sedai@hotmail.com



	3. VERSION 1.0 : Initium

Lost Complex - Version 1.0 : INITIUM

**LOST COMPLEX**   
Written by [Anikka][1]

  
  
  
**VERSION 1.0 : Initium**   
  
  


"So what I'm hearing is that you're not going to help me." 

Reno blinked at the quasi-question response, and nodded emphatically. "Sorry Reeve, you're going to have to find someone else to volunteer." 

Reeve grimaced at the red haired Turk, and looked hopefully to his partners. Elena, sensing impending doom, shook her head wildly and made up some excuse about having a date. When questioned about the new mystery man her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and, fearing she had been caught in the lie, made up an elaborate story about a man from Wutai who was in town for one night only. Reeve was impressed by her ability to make something up on the spot that was so detailed, and decided to move on to his final option. 

Fortunately for him, Rude had not seemed to be paying attention. 

The bald man had been flipping through an old issue of Highlights for Children and attempting to find the hidden images in a picture. When he heard his name, Rude looked up from his magazine, slightly startled, and fixed his shaded glare on Reeve. 

"What?" 

"You aren't doing anything tonight, right?" 

"...no," he said hesitantly, unsure of what he was getting himself into. The disapproving sounds from Reno and Elena made him want to rethink his answer. 

"Good, then you can help me move." 

If he had not been wearing his ever present sunglasses the others would have seen the horror stricken way his eyes widened. His fellow Turks laughed, well aware of the response they could not see, which earned them an invisible glare. The very thought of hauling around furniture and heavy boxes - and not to mention the inevitable heart attack that was sure to follow - made him wish he had been paying more attention to their conversation. 

"Gee, I'd kinda love to wanna help you out Reeve, but I've got a lot of work to do around the bar ..." 

"Come on," the executive nagged at the Turk, "You can spare one night of drinking to help me for an hour. After all, I was the one who went to Cloud to give you three a second chance." 

Rude made a defeated whistling sound through his teeth. He had to admit that Reeve was right, and he supposed they owed him something. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to help the guy for one night. Besides, if he gave himself a hernia lifting furniture he could always have the medical expenses pounded out of him. 

"Fine," he conceded and returned to his magazine, "I'll help you." 

Reeve almost seemed to puff up at the small victory, happy to have at least one of them to act as pack mule for a while. "Thanks Rude, I appreciate your sacrifice." 

"Meh," the Turk grunted, not looking up. 

"We all appreciate your sacrifice," Reno added mirthfully as he clapped his friend on the shoulder, "Don't we Elena." 

"Lazy bums," Rude grumbled under his breath, sparing a hard glare for both of them. Sometimes he wondered how he got suckered into these things while Reno always got off scott free. 

"Just looking out for number one." 

Elena swatted Reno on the arm, but said nothing; she felt bad now that she had weaseled her way out of it while Rude had reluctantly accepted. Not that she wanted to spend her evening dragging stuff up and down flights of stairs, but still, she felt a little guilty. 

"And what keeps you away this time Reno," Elena decided it was time to shift the focus away from her and onto the red head. 

Reno smiled at her smugly and flipped an errant hair from his eyes. "That ... is a secret." 

"That," Reeve echoed him mockingly, "Is lame. What kind of excuse have you got his time Reno?" 

He waved a finger at the executive and clucked his tongue. "Now, now, a man has to have some secrets Reeve. I apologize profusely to you for being unable to attend, but I'm afraid I have more urgent business elsewhere." 

"Chocobo races again?" Rude guessed in a dull monotone, "They'll kick you out for good if you try to cheat again Reno." 

The red haired Turk made a face. "I was not cheating Rude, I merely happened to be passing by the stables while delivering powerful sedatives to medical facilities. Those Gold Saucer cops blew everything way out of proportion." 

"Then why did all of those birds pass out halfway into the race?" 

"That's NOT the point," Reno argued defensively, "The point is that I have a previous engagement, that's not gambling at the track, and besides I don't want to help you move anyway! There, I said it. A-fucking-men." 

The Turk stalked away in a huff, slamming the lounge door behind him. The three left behind exchanged brief looks and then dismissed Reno's outburst; if he wanted to act like an idiot, there was no one willing to stop him. They had learned a long time ago that it was easier just to let him have his little tirades. Reeve reached for his jacket and prepared to leave, though a little less dramatically then Reno. 

"Meet me at six o'clock at my old building, okay?" he paused in the doorway, watching the Turk expectantly. 

"Meh," Reeve took the absent hand wave as acceptance and closed the door quietly behind him as he left. He sort of felt bad for roping him into something he obviously didn't want to do, but the thought of having to lug around couches by himself was absolutely terrifying. Anyways, it wasn't like they'd be doing all the heavy lifting themselves. 

Elena sighed dismally and plunked herself in the chair opposite of her fellow Turk. Rude did not even bat and eyelash in acknowledgement, but that didn't bother her. They were all long accustomed to his anti-social behaviour. Propping her chin thoughtfully in her palms, Elena studied him carefully. Those damned sunglasses always kept people at a distance; at times they seemed to be as effective as a mastered barrier spell. 

"Rude?" 

"..." 

"Can I ask you something?" 

"..." 

She frowned. "Why did you say you'd help Reeve? You could have easily come up with an excuse to get out of it, or just been an ass like Reno." 

"..." 

"Come on," narrowed eyes bore at him curiously, but Rude did not flinch, "Why are you being so nice to Reeve all of a sudden? I mean sure, he did get us our jobs back and he convinced AVALANCHE not to kill us, but I know you a little better than that. What's in it for you?" 

Finally, the bald Turk showed some signs of life. He carefully set the magazine down and did something Elena had never seen him do during her short career as a Turk; he took off his sunglasses. Finding a set of hard jaded eyes glaring back at her, she shrunk back in her seat. Though defiantly green, Elena could see the Mako taint gleaming just beneath the surface, as if forced back by the original stubborn colour. Skimming her memory she couldn't think of a single instance in which she had ever seen his eyes before. Hell, she didn't even know they were green. 

"You have really nice eyes," she blurted out, feeling herself suddenly intimidated, "How come you never take off those damned shades?" 

"Because," he practically spat at her, "I like them." 

She had been expecting some kind of different response. A battle tactic to throw people off, or something to that nature. It had never occurred to her that he might be really, really, really attached to the stupid things. 

"Oh ... well, that still doesn't answer my question. Why are you helping Reeve move?" 

There was a meditative silence as the Turk pondered his colleague's request. His brow wrinkled in momentary thought, but he said nothing. Truth was, he didn't know. Why should he help Reeve? Maybe it was because he felt some sort of obligation to him for getting their jobs back. Whatever it was, he chose to simply not care either way. So Rude did what he did best when he was in a corner. He checked his watch, and shrugged. 

"..." 

Elena flung her arms up in the air out of frustration, muttered hostily under her breath about men being impossible, and stormed out of the room in an over-dramatic, Reno-esque fashion. For the first time in a long time, Rude found himself completely surrounded by silence. No Reno ranting on and on about how he scored with some hot date, no Elena nagging at them, and no Vice Presidents prodding around looking for favors. Yes, how he adored the sound of silence. He slipped his glasses back into their familiar place over his eyes and went back to his magazine. 

"... nice and quiet." 

He allowed himself a rare smile as he finally discovered the bunny hiding in the tree.   
  
  


***********************************************

  
  


Dismal gray rain patterned harmlessly on broken cobblestone, cracked and worn from years of precipitation and neglect. Tiny puddles had begun to pool in the deeper crevices, overflowing into rivers that drained across a downward slope. It had been drizzling all day, and by the somber looking sky, it was obvious that it would continue well into the night. 

Rude took a long drag from his cigarette and practically snorted the smoke back out in short, quick bursts. He had lost track of exactly how long he'd been waiting, and the twinging cold did nothing for his demeanor. For now he was safely dry in an alcove, but all it would take was a slight change in the wind's direction to make it all come blowing in at him. There should have been snow by this time of year, but an unusually sharp increase of temperature in the last few days had produced a vile haze in Midgar and unrelenting rain. The air was always thick like someone had turned on a giant humidifier. The moisture was really starting to affect his sinuses, but Rude never went back on his word. So he would wait. 

Reeve had met him promptly at his old apartment building at six, and to his great relief most of the heavy stuff had already been taken away by moving vans. All that was left was mostly just boxes, some identified as being fragile, and few other odds and ends; lamps, a small book case, et cetera, and a rented U-Haul. They had crammed the thing practically to the point of bursting, and then departed towards his new building, on the other side of sector two. It was farther away from the Shinra building, but the apartment was, apparently, "to die for", according to Elena, who had helped him pick it out. 

It was not an impressive building from the outside, quite normal and rather bland by some standards, and seemed no more enticing than the building Reeve had left. Fading reddish brown brick seemed to blend seamlessly into the fog, making the dimensions of the structure difficult to determine. Rude had guessed it was no more that twenty stories. Long fingers of decaying ivy reached desperately along the left wall, trying to find some foot hole in the brick to prolong its rapidly departing life. It was an extremely ordinary building, if somewhat ugly. 

Tossing the cigarette butt to the ground, he snorted again before snuffing it with his boot. 

Now he was truly bored, and out of smokes. He should probably quit, but it wasn't an easy habit to give up, especially after fifteen years. His first cigarette had been smoked at the age of twelve, and though he had almost coughed up a lung that first time, the lulling spell of nicotine had claimed him. Patches were useless, the gum tasted like sewer and had the consistency of sand paper, and there was no way in Hell you would catch him in one of those Anonymous meetings or buying hypnosis tapes. Long ago Rude had decided that giving up smoking for him was like giving up on breathing, only this was more toxic. 

Gone for nearly twenty minutes now, the Turk thought as he checked his watch. Shortly after they had arrived - and had found that the furniture was already up in the apartment, god bless moving men - Reeve had told him to wait there for him while he went to get something to make it quicker to move the remaining stuff into the building. He said he would be five minutes. 

*I'll kill him*, the Turk reasoned logically to himself, *I can make it look like an accident, like he fell onto that lamp ... repeatedly.* 

Naturally he would never really kill Reeve, but the stoic man was awfully tempted. He would never get away with it though. Reeve was too important a person these days anyhow, and everything would fall apart without him. Vice President to the newly reformed Shinra Corporation, outranked only by Cloud Strife, Rude had always thought that he was really the one that ran everything. Whoever thought that giving Cloud a company was a good idea must have been even dumber that the President himself. Sure, Cloud was a great fighter, a fairly good strategist, even a decent guy, but Rude thought that it took more than that to be in charge of the biggest corporation on the Planet. Reeve, he assumed, would have been a more logical choice, but in the end he supposed that the former Urban Developer did most of the work any ways. But everything seemed to be running pretty smoothly these days, so whatever they were doing must have been working. 

Of course Rude did have some bias against Cloud, considering the fact that he had a massive crush on the President's girlfriend. 

AVALANCHE had taken over the Shinra regime after they defeated Sephiroth and were declared heros by the entire world. Someone had to step in to take over where Rufus and his father had once ruled, and the people trusted no one more than they trusted Strife and his motley crew. They had planned on renaming the company - no one really wanted to follow Rufus' name - but the cost reports of changing all of those stupid logos was astronomical. They decided to concentrate on more important matters, and hoped that one day they would have the budget to do so. 

Cloud and Reeve had stepped up to take the command, and with their combined efforts had turned a toppled empire and a chaotic ruined Midgar into a place worth living in again. Sure, the city was still being repaired, and it would take some time before everything was rebuilt, but that was the price they had to pay for hurting the Planet so badly. 

Mako had been outlawed, as it should have been years ago, but the old reactor sites still provided a living for monster hunters. They were now searching for more reliable, clean sources of energy, but that wasn't going very well. The cities were being powered by electrical plants for now, but that wasn't much cleaner than Mako. Hydro-Electric plants were currently being developed, as well as ideas for solar and wind generators, but nothing had been finalized. But still, the people had confidence in their heros. 

They had never failed them. 

God only knows why they had agreed to take the Turks back, even with Reeve's powers of persuasion. Most of the others had been adamantly against it at first, especially Barret Wallace, the new head of Urban Development, and Cid Highwind, head of the Engineering and Aeronautical programs. They were the ones who destroyed Sector Seven. They were killers. They didn't deserve their sympathy. Less than Human. Their arguments had been quite true, and even Rude wondered why anyone in their right mind would give them a second chance. 

Their salvation had come unexpectedly from Vincent Valentine, a former Turk. He didn't know what the vampire-like man had said to them, but whatever it was, Cloud had offered them jobs the next day. Reno had gone to him and asked him if he wanted to rejoin them, but Vincent politely declined, claiming his Turk days were over. No one really knew where he was these days, but he had the habit of showing up occassionally without warning; his last visit had been weeks ago. 

The best part of their job, Rude had to admit, was their new boss. Tseng had been a great leader, and he had loved the man like a father. Hell, he practically was his father. After his death Rude had thought that he would never want to follow anyone ever again. The Shinra had controlled them all before, and the very thought of someone replacing Tseng was ... well, he didn't even want to think about that. But the first day he showed up when they were rehired he nearly had a heart attack when he found out who was in charge of Turks assignments. 

Distinctly he could remember walking into the old lounge with Reno and Elena, and coming face to face with Tifa Lockheart herself. What he didn't know at the time was that she and the ninja girl Yuffie were joint heads of Shinra Security. Yuffie rarely ever came to Midgar though, and was responsible for Shinra affairs in Wutai and the Western Continent. It made sense though, when he thought about it; they were both very good at what they did, despite the fact that they got some heat for being women. Of course none of that mattered at all to him; Rude had gone down on his knees that night and thanked whatever God had let this happen. Not only did he get to work very closely with his obsession, but it seemed that over the course of the year, she had forgiven the past. 

Not that he ever had a snowball's chance in Hell with her or anything, but it was better than nothing just to have her as a friend. It was more than he deserved. Rude had resigned himself to his Fate though, knowing that Cloud Strife would always be the one in Tifa's heart. 

"Where the Hell is he?" he cursed to himself out loud, trying to keep his mind away from the AVALANCHE woman, "The rain's getting worse." 

What had begun as a light drizzle was slowly becoming a downpour. The boxed goods had been covered with a tarp, but he was more worried about the damage that could be done to his suit. Rainwater and Armani didn't exactly mix well, but he supposed that Reeve could settle his dry cleaning bill. Why he hadn't thought to bring an umbrella was the one thing running repeatedly through his mind, when all of a sudden -- 

"HEY RU~UUUDE!" 

The bald Turk blinked when he saw the owner of the suspiciously high pitched voice. 

Barely standing two feet off the ground was a smug looking black and white cat with a crown on its head and a red cape around its neck. In it's left hand was a comically oversized blue umbrella, tactlessly covered with Pokemon. Rude recognized it immediately. The Cait Sith robot that Reeve had used to spy on AVALANCHE. Behind Cait, his trusty moogle companion was hefting a box into it's massive arms. 

"Uhhh ..." 

"What's the matter Rude, aren't you happy to see me?" 

"I thought you scrapped this thing Reeve." 

"Thing?" Cait made a face at the bewildered Turk. "I am not a thing! And Reeve can't hear you idiot, he's all the way upstairs." 

This only confused Rude further. He didn't really remember much about the stupid robot that Reeve used to play with back in the day when Rufus' father was in control, but as he recalled, Cait Sith was supposed to have been controlled by him, not acting independently. 

"I make my own decisions now," Cait's familiar obnoxious grin settled back into place, "And Reeve would never scrap me anyways, I'm too important to him." 

Rude could only blink as Cait stuck his tounge out at him and twirled the umbrella absently. "Come on then Turk, let's get a move on! The sooner we get all of Reeve's crap inside the sooner you can go get drunk." 

Rude observed silently as Cait produced his trademarked megaphone from behind his cape and started shouting orders to his mechanical friend, who also seemed independent from outside control, other than the cat of course. He scrabbled across the wet pavement and hopped up onto his trusty mount, tilting the umbrella to cover the box. The Turk stood there blinking for a moment, unsure of what had just happened. Sometimes, he thought, Reeve was to brilliant for his damned good. 

Shrugging to himself he dashed out into the rain, abandoning the safety of his alcove, and reached under the tarp for the closest box. Wanting to make as few trips as possible, he stacked three boxes on top of themselves and ran after the disappearing form of Cait Sith.   
  
  


***********************************************

  
  


Rude shoved the apartment door open with his foot, nearly blinded by the mass of cardboard in front of his face. He wasn't one hundred percent sure that this was the right one, but he thought he had seen that annoying robot go through this door. Setting the load down, he was only slightly relieved to see that he did have the right apartment. 

Cait Sith was there, ordering his moogle to set the boxes down and go back to get more. The cat remained behind this time, obviously not anxious to go back into the rain. He hadn't realized robots had such a great capacity for irritating idle chatter, though he was given a lesson on that on the elevator ride up. Rude glanced at him dismissively as he took in his new surroundings. 

Compared to the drab and uninspiring exterior of the building, the inside was a completely different scenario. The entrance opened into a huge living room, currently filled with varying articles of furniture and boxes. He could see a fair sized kitchen to his left, a bathroom, a smaller study-like room, and a hallway that undoubtedly branched into the bedroom. A massive bay window occupied most of the rear wall. A smaller sliding door with glass work from Wutai let out to a patio that lay beyond the windows. It seems Elena had been right after all. It was pretty impressive. 

Then he remembered how pissed off he was about being left in the rain. 

"Oh Reeve," he called in the calmest voice he could muster. 

*Must not kill, must not kill, must not kill .....* 

WHY NOT? 

A voice drifted at him from somewhere in the back of his mind, but he shook his angered conscience away. Reeve appeared from the rear hallway, carrying a small box in his hands. When he saw the expression on Rude's face, even with the sunglasses, he nearly dropped it. An look of horrified realization slowly crossed the vice president's face, the kind of look one got when they suddenly remembered that bears don't like it when you jab at them with sticks. 

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry Rude, I kind of lost track of the time. See, when I came up here to activate Cait, the landlord cornered me and started into some big rant about the moving guys getting mud everywhere and ... oh, it's a long story. But I finally got in here and then I found out that some of Cait's circuits were damaged during the move and ..." 

"Five seconds Reeve." 

"... I'll take you drinking tonight. Completely on me." 

Rude considered this generous offer, and humbly accepted. Sure, he was a little miffed that he had been forgotten, but free alcohol always made things better. The moogle returned just then, dropped off two more boxes and disappeared again. Cait Sith had stretched himself out on one of Reeve's fine leather couches, observing the pair quietly. 

"You gonna explain this?" the Turk jerked a thumb at the robot, who sat up when the conversation was aimed at him. 

A strange look of pride passed over the Vice President's face before he explained to Rude. "Awesome, isn't he? After the whole Sephiroth fiasco I ddn't really have time to play around with Cait anymore, and I had to deactivate him for a while. The months went by and I was so busy with the company that I hadn't really thought about him for a long time. A couple of weeks ago I was talking to Cid and Shera, and she asked me whatever happened to the stuffed cat and moogle." 

"Abandoned," Cait wailed over dramatically, "Oh the tragedy." 

Reeve shot the robot a look and then continued. "I reactivated him one night, but I knew I wouldn't really be able to do anything with him like I used to. I could travel all over the world without leaving the Shinra building, but I don't have time for that anymore. So I started thinking, and I wondered if it would be possible to animate Cait so he could operate all on his own. It would be a shame if the technology were abandoned just because I don't have time to use it, you know? So I've been working on him every night when I had the opportunity, and it seems that all my efforts have paid off." 

"..." 

"Cait Sith is the first ever fully functional android. He has artificial intellegence, the ability to learn, to reason, everything .... pretty cool, huh?" 

"And did you program him to be an annoying jerk?" 

Reeve frowned. "... no, he learned that all on his own." 

"You're damned right I did," the cat leaped up onto the top of the couch, "I'm a technological marvel, wouldn't you agree Turk?" 

"..." 

"Not much of a conversationalist, are you?" 

"..." 

Cait leaned over the edge of his perch as far as he could, until he was nearly face to face with Rude. The two seemed to be engaged in a staring contest. The Sith grinned. "Yo momma." 

" ... what?" 

"Ha!" the robot pronounced triumphantly, "Made you talk." 

Once again the moogle reappeared and disappeared. Rude turned to Reeve, patience hanging by a tiny little thread, and gave him an almost pleading look. "Reeve, make him stop ... or I'm gonna have a new artificially intelligent paper weight." 

The robot laughed as if it were the most hilarious thing he'd ever heard and fell backwards with an elaborate amount of overacting. Rude did not think anything was very funny, but all Reeve could do was shake his head. 

"Cait, behave yourself." 

He made a snorting noise, but waved a gloved hand dismissively. "Sure, sure. Whatever you want Reeve. Me and the Turk will play nice from now on, won't we buddy?" 

"I am not your buddy," Rude stressed every word as if it were infinitely important, "And since you have a robot to carry your boxes around you don't need me here anymore. I'm leaving." 

He would have just left at that, turned around and walked right out of the door without a second glance, but when Reeve called for him to wait, a nagging feeling of obligation made him pause. Reeve suggested that they leave the work to Cait Sith and his Moogle and go out for those drinks he had promised. Rude considered the offer for about a microsecond and then agreed; there was nothing he wanted more at that moment then a good drink. 

"..." He nodded. 

"Excellent," Reeve crowed, having long been used to the Turk's limited capacity for response, "Let's get the Hell out of here. This mess can wait until later. Cait, make sure Moogle brings all the boxes up and then lock the door. I have a key. And please, don't do anything stupid while I'm gone. I still want to be living here when I get back, all right?" 

"Will do," Cait gave them a mock salute as the two men left the apartment, the door still open for Moogle. 

Now he was alone. He flopped backwards into a pillow as an air of boredom settled around him. Moogle worked tirelessly bringing boxes up from the street, never showing signs of fatigue. of course it was silly to think a robot could get fatigued, but that was the kind of idle thought that his boredom produced. Nearly half an hour went by silently, each minute spent wondering why he had agreed to babysit all of Reeve's stuff. 

Cait was hanging backwards off of the couch, watching his tail twitch back and forth, when Moogle came in with a particularly heavy looking box. He set it to the floor with a gently thud, and the cat assumed he would disappear again within moments. However Moogle just stood there, watching Cait expectantly. Confused, the Sith flipped backwards onto his feet. 

"Aren't there anymore boxes to bring up?" he asked incredulously. 

The moogle shook it's big head, almost sadly, and blinked back at him, waiting for a new task. Moogle loved to help people, especially Cait Sith. Cait, on the other hand, had a mischievous smirk growing on his face. Now that his job was done, Reeve hadn't specifically said that he couldn't go out and have a little fun of his own. If he hurried, he could probably track down Reeve and Rude. 

There was the little problem of what to do with his friend. He didn't want to bring his trusty Moogle, but then again, he didn't want to leave him just standing here for hours. Scratching his furred chin thoughtfully an idea finally struck him. Cait would certainly get into trouble for this little expedition, but Reeve couldn't get that angry if he came home to a perfectly organized apartment. He turned to Moogle. 

"Okay buddy, here's what we're gonna do," Moogle perked up at Cait's enthusiasm, "I'm going to go out for a little while, but you have an important job to do. Do you remember the way Reeve had the other place decorated? Good. I need you to take all of the furniture and his stuff and reproduce the other apartment as best you can. If I come back before Reeve does, I'll knock five times and that's your signal to unlock the door for me. Otherwise, don't answer it. Is that okay?" 

Moogle nodded vigorously, pleased that he could be of such a great help to his friend Cait. That, in turn, made Cait very happy. He hadn't really ever had a chance to go out on his own before; he had always been controlled by Reeve, gone where the executive told him to go. He would have his first taste of real freedom tonight. The memory chips of the first Cait Sith had been programmed into him, so he remembered the entire Sephiroth incident, but more importantly, the location of every bar in Midgar. Finding those two would be easy. 

Chuckling to himself, Cait wished the Moogle luck and closed the door behind him. He had the feeling that tonight would definitely be a night to remember.   
  
  


***********************************************  
**To Be Continued**  
***********************************************   
  


   [1]: mailto:anikka_sedai@hotmail.com



	4. VERSION 2.0 : Drinking

Lost Complex - Version 2.0 : DRINKING

**LOST COMPLEX**   
Written by [Anikka][1]

  
  
  
**VERSION 2.0 : Drinking**   
  
  


"Outta the way!" 

A perfectly innocent looking U-Haul trailer plowed through the slick streets of Sector Three. Classically known as the entertainment district of Midgar - at least before most of the theaters had been destroyed by Meteor - it seemed as good a place as any for the Vice President to go joy riding. A few road construction pylons went flying, and some pedestrians narrowly avoided joining them. 

*_Dear God I'm going to die_* 

Rude gripped the side of his arm rest like a vice wound to tightly, knuckles white from the sheer amount of force. He tried not to show fear, his training as a Turk forbade it, but Shinra training could never have even remotely prepared him for Reeve's driving abilities. 

"What's the matter Rude?" the Turk could have sworn there was an air of smugness in the other man's voice, "Too fast?" 

If anyone had ever told him that Reeve had a decidedly twisted side he was hiding from everyone else he would have shot them right then and there. But this was a bizarre new side of his that, quite frankly, horrified Rude to the bone. Who would have guessed that such a mild mannered person had a penchant for joy riding? He supposed that long days and nights working in the office created a lot of stress, but if this was the way that they all released their frustrations ... 

"Usually there aren't so many people out this time of night," a small frown played across Reeve's face briefly before it was replaced by a mad grin, "But it just makes it more entertaining!" 

Despite the fact that he was keeping an eye on Reeve the entire time, Rude had noticed there was a fair amount of people out in the streets. It wasn't late, only eight thirty or so, but one did not usually see so many well dressed bodies out at once. unless, of course, there was something going on. Then, almost stupidly, he reminded himself he was in the theater district. 

"Must be an opening night," he murmured, half to himself. 

"Yeah," Reeve agreed, noticing for himself just how many people were ducking to avoid the path of the swerving U-Haul. 

He scratched at his goatee thoughtfully. There was a big crowd gathering outside tonight. Vaguely he remembered Cloud - or maybe it was Tifa - going on very excitedly about the re launch of Loveless, one of the old Midgar Theater's most successful plays in its long running history. Tragically the theater had been destroyed by Meteor, but the show, as they said, always went on. Opening night was at one of the few surviving theaters, the Paradiso, in the heart of Sector Three. Not very far from where they were now, judging by the steady stream of people. He had forgotten all about it; he hoped he had not made any hasty promises to make an appearence. 

He probably would have remembered if he promised Tifa and Cloud something that important, Reeve reasoned to himself. Loveless. How many years had it been since he'd seen that play? Too many. Reeve remembered seeing it for the first time; when he was fifteen, he and some friends had gotten into Midgar Theater with fake ID's. It was the first R-rated play in the city's history, and Reeve's first look at the female form. A small smile twinged at the corners of his lips when he recalled the experience. The security guards had caught on to them when they wolf whistled the lead actress and applauded during an attempted rape scene. Thinking back it was the kind of stupid, immature thing that branded most teenagers and was the reason they didn't let them into R-Rated entertainment. But that was thirteen years ago, practically a life time. 

So much had changed in thirteen years. He wondered what that impressionistic fifteen year old - the one who had thought the whole world would stand still for him - would think of the man he was today. Vice President of Shinra Incorporated would have made him laugh. Hell, Urban Development would have had him in hysterics. Reeve had never had any aspirations of corporate ladder climbing when he was a kid, not that any kid ever did, but he was starting to remember a boy who hated it when his parents made him wear a suit to church and who struggled through business in high school. It was funny how everything could change when you weren't paying attention. 

"BAR!" 

"...huh?" 

Reeve snapped back to attention when he heard Rude's triumphant discovery. They had been searching for a bar for about twenty minutes now, and it seemed their efforts were to be rewarded. Unfortunately, as Reeve hadn't really been paying attention to where he was going, he passed by the bar and could only watch as the sign faded into the backdrop. Determined, both men scanned the vicinity for a place to park their U-haul, but the opening of Loveless left no curb clear. 

"I think I saw a space back that way," Reeve commented casually as the tires screeched on the pavement in a fantastically illegal U-turn. 

"SHIT." 

The Turk let loose a streak of profanities at the sudden traffic violation, gripping his arm rests with renewed vigor. A sheet of rain water sprayed behind them, and the U-haul fish tailed on the slick roadway. There were angry shouts of protest rising from the crowds in the streets, as well as honking horns and obscene gestures. Rude could feel all his vital organs melting into puddles as Reeve careened into the one available parking spot, ten blocks away from the bar, narrowly avoiding side swiping a Lexus. 

Reeve neatly turned the key and pulled it from the ignition in one fluid motion; he placed it into his breast pocket. Rude however, still maintaining his death grip, sucked in deep breaths as if he had been submerged in water for a long period of time. When he finally felt himself regaining control he turned to Reeve, and glared at him angrily. 

"Where in the name of fucking Jesus did you learn to drive?" 

The Vice President looked slightly offended but chuckled anyways. "Who says I ever learned?" 

"... could have killed us." 

He quickly pulled out a newly purchased pack of cigarettes. There was nothing quite like a shot of nicotine to calm one's nerves. When they stepped out of the U-Haul and into the streets both men were surprised by the stark drop in temperature. It had cooled significantly since they began their expedition, causing rain to become soft wisps of translucent snow. The dull roar of a growing crowd echoed through Sector Three as opening night was patiently awaited. 

"Come on Rude," Reeve called to him, already starting in the direction of the bar, "It's freezing out here." 

The Turk easily caught up to him and they walked in silence towards their destination. The bar they had seen was called the Silver Siren, very up class and expensive looking, but since Reeve was paying it didn't matter. Alcohol was alcohol after all. They covered the distance quickly, cold being a great motivator, and were only within a block of the bar. 

"What brain damaged instructor gave you a license?" 

Reeve blinked. "I don't drive like that ALL of the time Rude." 

"..." 

Apparently the Turk had run out of things to say. He simply tossed his cigarette to the curb and lit up another; Reeve was going to make a comment about second hand smoke, but decided against it. After all, he'd shocked him so much it would probably take a year off of his life. They continued on in silence, but Reeve didn't mind. Rude was a man of very few words, and he had said more that day than in the last month; he wouldn't be surprised if no one ever heard him speak again for days. 

"Damn it's cold," the Vice President muttered. 

"..." 

"Don't you think it's cold?" 

"..." 

"Well, you're just about as exciting as -- OOF" 

Once again, Reeve had not been paying to where he was going, and ran straight into something. Stumbling backwards he was saved an embarrassing fall on his ass when he ran into a lamp post, but that just brought on a whole new problem. He hissed through his teeth as he rubbed the back of his skull gingerly. Scowling, Reeve glanced around to see just what he had so carelessly run into. 

He nearly squeaked in surprise. 

A very angry looking woman was staring him down like a Tonberry ready to go in for the kill. Icy blue eyes narrowed dangerously at him in a death glare so concentrated it almost pained him to look directly at her. Short ash coloured hair - a shade obviously not found in nature - framed perfectly tanned skin, giving him the impression that she had spent a lot of time Costa De Sol or Mideel recently. Around her neck was a thin choker of black, fashioned with a small silver cross; a navy blue duffle bag was slung about her shoulders with great care. 

All Reeve could do was stare with his mouth hanging open like an idiot. 

"Watch where you're going, stupid oaf," she huffed angrily, pushing past the Vice President and deliberately elbowing him out of her path. The two of them watched her stalk in the opposite direction, randomly shoving people out of her way. Rude cocked an eyebrow, but showed no other reaction. 

"..." 

Reeve cast a sidelong glance blandly at the Turk, and nodded in agreement. "Truer words were never spoken." 

"... whatever. Let's go." 

They maneuvered through the crowds as the lulling florescent lights called them towards their destination. Rude curbed the urge to snicker to himself as Reeve cursed under his breath, rubbing the lump that was forming at the base of his neck. 

"Good evening gentlemen." 

A wary voice caught Rude's attention, and he was slightly surprised to see a doorman standing ready at the entrance - actually, blocking the entrance was a more accurate description. What kind of a bar had a doorman? A long wooly coat of red stood out in the well dressed crowd like beacon, and looked warm enough to have the man sweating in this cold. He eyed them suspiciously, obviously not recognizing the Vice President or the Turk; it was almost as if he were deciding whether or not to let them in at all. 

Reeve, sensing that their path to alcohol may be interrupted, gave the doorman an unimpressed scowl. 

"Good evening," he returned the untrustful sentiment, "Would you mind standing over there so we can drink?" 

"I'm sorry sir, but there is a dress code in effect at this establishment, and you two are not -" 

With an errant sigh Reeve fished in his jacket pocket and retrieved two items; a laminated ID card and 200 gil. The doorman looked back and froth from Reeve to the ID, and a sour expression crossed his face and he stepped aside. 

"Please forgive my rudeness Sir. Enjoy yourself this evening." 

It was not a pleasant tone, but one of sudden tolerance, and perhaps resentment. Reeve never really felt comfortable using his status to manipulate people, but sometimes it just had to be done. Besides, he thought to himself as he strode through the door, what was the harm in sitting down for a drink? 

"Slick," was all Rude had to say about the turn of events. He didn't really care one way or another what Reeve did with his power, as long as there weren't any flaming hunks of space rock hurtling towards them. He felt a little put off by the fact that the Doorman hadn't recognized him, in his Turk suit no less, but he supposed that was the price they paid for going on the straight and narrow with the public. They weren't as feared as they used to be; the price of change was steep. 

"..." 

He suddenly thought himself very under dressed; maybe that glorified body guard had been right. A bar, as his definition stated, was a place where you could go to escape the world. No one wanted to drink in a place that oozed quiet morality - or wealth, for that matter. It was not a very big place, but size was more than made up for in elegance. Everything played to patterns of oaky browns and beiges, furnishings and floors matching in a sort of bland unison. Finely crafted wooden tables and chairs were thrown about the room sparsely, most patrons preferring to stand and mingle or sit at the glass topped bar. A sparkling chandelier watched everything from above, glimmering softly from the surrounding incandescent lights. 

Reno would have hated it. Then again, Reno hated any place that wouldn't let him jump up on the table and sing 'It's Raining Men' when he was drunk out of his mind. Rude wasn't feeling quite so comfortable here either, shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

"Uhh ... can we go somewhere else?" 

Reeve blinked at him. He hadn't thought that Turks were picky about where they got their alcohol. Then again, he himself was feeling a little out of place, surrounded by formal wear and expensive champagne. They weren't exactly fashionable eye sores, but suits didn't quite stand up to tuxedos. He was also becoming aware of a few stray looks from some of the occupants, sipping on their fifty gil martinis and making hushed comments. 

Making a face, he came to a resolution. He was the Vice President. He had a Turk with him. They could drink wherever the Hell they wanted to. Why should they let a few high brows decide where they were not welcome? 

"Come on Rude," he said as he waded towards the bar, nudging people out of his way, "I owe you a drink." 

"..." 

The bald man only stared, wondering when Reeve had suddenly acquired his balls. This was not like the Vice President he thought he knew. Reeve was reserved, compliant, and did not like confrontation. At least, he thought he didn't. The crowd was becoming a little more vocal with their displeasure of their presence, but Reeve ignored it all. He asked Rude what kind of liquor he liked, doubting that a place like this would have beer or the dirt cheap stuff in the old slums. Rude couldn't answer, because the dirt cheap stuff was his favourite. 

So Reeve did what Reeve was least likely to do in such a situation. 

"Bring us two bottles of your most alcoholic liquid in the house my good man," he grinned at the surprised man behind the bar, who was decked to the nines in velvet and silk, "And charge it to Cloud Strife." 

He tossed a credit card on the table sporting a Shinra logo and the President's name. Rude did a double take, and could not suppress a small grin. So that's why the door guy had changed his tune so easily. 

"Uh ... yes sir," he complied in a nasal tone that betrayed his obvious distaste of them. 

Reeve plopped himself onto one of the bar stools and began drumming his fingers against the glass counter top. What this place needed, he thought, was a giant drunken rabble. But since Reno was MIA that night, he'd have to settle for a loud disturbance. He couldn't really put his finger on it, but tonight he was feeling the need to be rowdy and disruptive. 

"Reeve?" 

He looked up when he heard the Turk speak up. "Yeah?" 

Rude looked like he was thinking about his choice of words, scratching his chin thoughtfully. 

"Have you ... gone insane?" 

The Vice President crooked an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" 

"It's just ... you've been acting ... not the way you usually do ... very ... non-Reeve." 

Reeve laughed, a slightly amused chuckle that lingered in his throat. The man behind the counter returned with two of the hugest liquor bottles either of them had ever seen in their lives and a pair of shot glasses. He asked no questions and made no comments, but continued watching them out of the corner of his eye as he moved onto new customers. Rude sat on the stool beside Reeve and nabbed one of the bottles. 

"Shit," he muttered as he popped the reluctant cork, "Smells like fucking turpentine." 

"Has that ever stopped you before?" 

"Point taken." The Turk poured a generous amount of the suspicious liquid into his glass. He drained it with a quick, fluid movement before pouring himself another. He looked on with piqued interest as Reeve did the same. 

"Damn," Reeve muttered as he prepared himself for another shot, "That's fucking strong. What do you think Rude, or am I just a liquor pussy?" 

Rude nearly choked on his shot when those words left the other's mouth, and was barely able to keep the burning alcohol in his throat instead of spitting it everywhere. Now, he was sure, something was not quite right with Reeve. He had never heard him swear consecutively - and so bluntly - before, and the alcohol could not have been setting in so early. 

"What the Hell is up with you?" Rude questioned him, "I may not be the most sociable person but ... shit, you're personality is flipping a one eighty." 

"How very observant of you. Now I guess I know why we pay you Turks so much fucking money. You're good at what you do." 

Rude rethought his earlier assessment; maybe the liquor was kicking in already. 

"The joy riding ... the sudden attitude ... Cloud's credit card - which is beautiful by the way -it doesn't make sense. It's not you." 

Reeve took another shot, but the look in his eyes showed Rude that he was completely sober and of sound mind. There was an almost haunted emptiness there, a look of someone who was fed up with everything. "Can I ask you something Rude? Do you ever get tired of being yourself?" 

"... what?" 

"Do you ever wish you could just tell the world to fuck off and leave you alone?" 

He nodded. "All the time." 

"Sometimes ... sometimes I wish was a different person. I wonder what would have happened if everything had turned out differently. Would we be sitting here now, or would we be alive at all? Maybe I'm just being a philosophical idiot or something, but it bothers me sometimes. What would it be like if things turned out the way I thought they would? You understand what I mean, don't you?" 

"Yes, I think I do." 

"Don't get me wrong or anything, I like my job and helping to rebuild Midgar will always be a priority, but ..." 

" ... it's not what you wanted." 

Reeve studied the other man carefully, as if seeing him for the first time. "Exactly. You know Rude, you're not such a bad guy after all. Not the most stimulating conversationalist maybe, but ..." 

The Turk looked at him strangely, and he laughed half heartedly. "Everyone says you're a rock wall. But I don't think that's true." 

There was a sudden silence that stretched between them, each thinking about what was just said. Soft laughter was intermittent between shots, mostly coming from Rude. The alcohol was definitely starting to settle in now, creating a warm, comfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was funny how liquor always loosened his inhibitions, but it didn't concern him. He turned to Reeve, watching as he swilled another drink. 

"What makes you think that? How do you know I'm not a rock?" 

"Because," the Vice President reasoned, "You're not. If you were half the emotionless sack the office says you are then you wouldn't have helped me move." 

"Emotionless sack?" he repeated, not really sure how to take that label. 

_"Emotionless sack,"_ Reeve reiterated the rumor, "They say you wouldn't know a human emotion is it bit you in the ass. Reno and Elena always defend you of course, but no one can stop office gossip. But if it makes you feel any better, I don't think you're an emotionless sack. Quite the opposite, really. I think you're more complex than you let on." 

A rock wall, huh? Rude traced a pattern on his shot glass with the tip of his index finger, musing over this new information. He knew that people had an opinion of him - Hell, these days everyone had an opinion on everyone else - but he hadn't thought it was quite that bad. Just because he didn't say much or because of the fact that he'd been suppressing things for so long he wasn't even sure what they felt like any more, it didn't mean that he was an emotionless sack. He was well aware of his emotions biting him in the ass every day. Idly he wondered if Tifa thought he was an unfeeling weirdo. 

Then he turned to Reeve. 

"And what do they say about you?" 

"You know what they say about me," he answered with a wry grin, "They say what they've always said. 'Good old reliable Reeve. He'll do what we ask him and he won't complain. He'll sit there like an idiot while the whole fucking world passes him by.' That's about right, isn't it?" 

"More or less ..." 

"What does that mean?" 

"It means," the Turk paused, considering his answer, "That people really .. I don't know, expect a lot from you. Not because your a door mat - which you act like sometimes - but because they respect you or something. Fuck, I don't know." 

"I'm a door mat, am I?" 

Rude shook his head. "No, not really. I think you just put up the front of being a door mat because its easier than facing the truth. Like second nature or something, you know? You aren't the person I thought you were." 

Reeve laughed again, this time with genuine mirth. "Well, I can say the same about you. Fuck both of us man, the door mat and the emotionless sack!" 

Shot glasses clinked together as they both downed another round 

"Who's an emotionless sack?" 

Both men jumped slightly when a third, more sober voice surprised them from behind; distinctly feminine, yet with an odd trace of cynicism. They were very much relieved, a little surprised, to see Tifa Lockheart standing behind them; the mind creates strange scenarios when its been hazed. 

"That would be me," the Turk raised a hand solemnly, "I am a _sack_." 

Rude, grateful for the shielding of his shades, could not help but stare at the woman. She was wearing a long bronze coloured masterpiece of silk, which trained slightly behind her despite added height of identically coloured heels. A thin string of diamonds hung around her neck, seeming to accent the ludicrous amount of cleavage the upper half of the dress displayed. Over the dress she wore a long black coat, trimmed with faux fur along the collar and cuff, as well as a small black hand bag. Her long, coffee coloured hair was gathered loosely at the nape of her neck, held in place by a thin black ribbon. A flush was creeping into his cheeks, despite his best efforts to quell it; she looked so beautiful that even his fantasies would be hard pressed to top it. 

The one thing that stuck out screaming from her appearence was a wretched expression; an unhappy frown that marred her face like a scar. An air of palpable disappointment had followed her in, and it was as sobering as a blast of cold wind. Rude watched her with growing worry, even though she laughed at his comment. 

"Oh, hi Tifa," Reeve greeted her amiably, and then looked suddenly concerned, "What are you doing here?" 

She made a dejected huffing sound and sat on the stool next to Rude. They watched with mild amusement as she snatched his shot glass and poured herself a drink. 

"You guys mind if I wallow in self pity with you?" 

"Wallow away," Reeve replied with a cautious smile, "Though I must advise you there is a strict wallowing dress code and I don't think you meet it." 

"Funny," she muttered to neither of them and downed her drink. She signaled to the man behind the bar, who came running at the sight of a well dressed, attractive woman, and gladly brought her a shot glass; she handed the other one back to Rude. 

"What brings you here?" The Turk asked casually, not wanting to sound to infactuated, but secretly overjoyed that she was sitting next to him. 

"Yeah, I thought you and President Cloud were off to the Theater tonight; the Loveless show you kept talking about, right?" 

Her frown deepened slightly as she removed her coat, folding it carefully and holding it in her lap. 

"Cloud is being an ass." 

"What's new?" 

"A _bigger_ ass than _usual_," she stressed, "We were supposed to go and see the Loveless reopening tonight. I've always wanted to see that stupid play, and I finally got tickets ... so he calls me an hour and a half before the show starts and says that something came up at the office and he can't make it." 

"Ouch," Rude muttered into his drink before swilling it. 

"He says its too important to wait," she made a face while trying a Cloud impersonation, "_'You know I love you baby, but the company this, the company that.'_ Fuck the mother fucking company." 

"My God," Reeve feigned offense, covering his ears with his hands, "Such language." 

"... shut up Reeve." 

The Vice President gave her a half hearted smile, though the cogs in his head were starting to turn. If there was something important going on in the office, shouldn't Cloud have tried to get a hold of him? Usually he was the one who handled most of the important, late night shit, simply because he didn't have much of a social life of his own. Maybe he was making something out of nothing, but still, it bothered him. 

"Don't be too hard on him Teef," he said placidly in an attempt to reassure her, "You know how much effort Cloud puts in to make that company work. Don't get me wrong though, he's a jerk for skipping out on you tonight. Maybe we should hire him an assistant or something." 

"I know he works hard ... but he's always got an excuse for everything. It wouldn't bother me so much if he'd just leave the damned work at the office once and a while. Remember last week when he didn't show at Marlene's birthday? The poor kid was asking about her Uncle Cloud and I had to lie for him." 

"Yeah, I remember." 

"It's just so frustrating. He knows how much I want to see that play tonight. Now I can't go" 

"Why not?" the Tuurk asked blandly, "Go anyway." 

"I don't want to go by myself." 

Reeve grinned. "We'll go with you Tifa. It'll be a night on the town for the sad and pathetic." 

Tifa smiled sadly as she reached into the small handbag and pulled the tickets. "But I only have two." 

"Oh ... then Rude will go with you." 

The Turk's face blanked at the suggestion, and he stared at Reeve like he was going to murder him. "He will?" 

"Sure he will!" Reeve, a tad under the influence, clapped the Turk on the shoulder, "Come on man, you wouldn't let a pretty girl go to the Theater all alone and depressed, would you?" 

It was at the moment that Tifa looked at him that Rude realized he would have done just about anything they asked him to. He was powerless against those sad burgundy eyes. 

"N-no," he stuttered slightly at the question, "I mean ... are you sure you wouldn't want to go Reeve?" 

"I've already seen it," he said with a dismissive wave, "Besides, I'm not exactly in the right frame of mind to enjoy it right now. You're more sober than I am Turk, and I doubt Tifa would want my drunken commentary through the entire play." 

"Uh ... well, I guess I'll go ... if you don't mind Tifa. Apparently I'm not the most entertaining company, what with being an emotionless sack and all." 

He felt his insides melt when she laughed. It wasn't the liquor, he was sure, because they always seemed to do that when Tifa was around. She rose hurriedly and put her coat back on. "Don't be silly, of course I don't mind having your company. We're friends, aren't we? Besides, I'm sure you'll be more interesting that Cloud usually is after work. Oh, and consequently, one word about the office and I will have to decapitate you." 

"..." 

All he could do was nod stupidly as she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to his feet. "Come on, it'll start soon and of we hurry we'll make it with a few seconds to spare. Thanks Rude, I owe you one. I'm sure you'd rather drink then spend an evening with a frustrated executive." 

*_You couldn't be more wrong_* he almost laughed to himself, but instead replied, "You don't owe me anything." 

"Thank you too Reeve," she smiled at the Vice President, "For trying to cheer me up and for letting me steal your date." 

Rude made a face at that analogy, but Reeve chuckled sarcastically. "All the good men are so hard to find. You guys have fun, I'll keep wallowing." 

He watched with a small grin as Tifa anxiously dragged the bewildered Turk away from the bar and into the streets, now alone with only his bottle for company. He would have liked to see Loveless again, but somehow he just wasn't in the mood for it. Besides, he suspected Rude would have a better time than he would have; it was no big secret to him that he had an enormous crush on her. Maybe it really wasn't all that helpful giving him an evening with a woman he had absolutely no chance with - possibly even a little cruel - but it was better than sitting at a bar all night. 

Suddenly, he didn't feel like being there anymore. He wanted to be somewhere, anywhere but in that bar, with these people. Snatching the bottles in both hands he left a skimpy tip for the bar tender - who didn't deserve anything for being such a crotch, and rose to leave. 

"Maybe I should go home and make sure Cait hasn't gotten me evicted yet," he mused to himself as some patrons stared at him strangely for talking to himself. He was tempted to give them all the one digit salute, but curbed the urge as he stepped into the chilled evening air. There was nothing he wanted less right at that moment than an audience. 

Drinking was definitely not as fun without someone to act like an idiot with you.   
  
  


***********************************************  
**To Be Continued**  
***********************************************   
  


   [1]: mailto:anikka_sedai@hotmail.com



End file.
